


A Whole New World

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fantastic Beasts Spoilers, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry Potter spoilers, M/M, mostly just cute fluff, not really super romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: James Milner tries to bond with his new captain by comparing him to Cedric Diggory. Jordan looks confused, and when James tries to explain... well, it's a lot of words Jordan's never heard before.In which James Milner woos Jordan using Harry Potter, and doesn't even realize he's doing it.





	1. The Philosopher's Stone

When James Milner signs for Liverpool, Jordan has certain expectations for what he’ll be like. He already knows him a bit, from international duty, and Stevie’d been pleased when he’d heard they were signing him. “Good head to have round the dressing room—he’ll help you out a lot, Hendo.”

 

Jordan expects him to be a good lad, if not a _fun_ one, not the way Adam is. He expects him to be a hard worker, and a leader in the dressing room, and a model of professionalism for everyone at the club. He’s not wrong in those expectations—that just isn’t quite the whole picture.

 

It’s James’ third week of training with the squad. The boys like him already, he’s popular, and he’s always available to be the designated driver, but he’ll make sure the lads are being responsible, too. He is, exactly as Stevie had predicted, a good guy to have around.

 

“You’re a proper Cedric Diggory, you are,” he says to Jordan one day.

 

Jordan has no idea what that means, but it sounds like a compliment.

 

“Uh, thanks,” he says, “Is that, like, something they say in Leeds?

 

“No, I’m talking about _the_ Cedric Diggory.”

 

“Right. Is he a mate of yours?”

 

This is apparently the wrong question, if you go by the way Milly’s jaw drops.

 

“ _Goblet of Fire_ ,” he says kindly, as if Jordan’s just forgotten, and those three words should be sufficient to jog his memory.

 

“Cedric. From _Goblet of Fire_. I mean, he was in _Prisoner of Azkaban_ , too, but most people know him from _Goblet of Fire_. You know, the Hufflepuff Champion from the Triwizard Cup? Well, technically he was the Hogwarts Champion, but because Harry was chosen too, I think Hufflepuff Champion is more precise.”

 

That’s… a lot of words that Jordan isn’t familiar with. I mean, he knows most of them on their own, but in this particular order, they don’t make any sense.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Kill the spare?”

 

“Kill who?”

 

“ _Harry Potter_ , Jordan! It’s from _Harry Potter_!”

 

“Oh. I haven’t seen those films.”

 

“So it’s just been awhile since you read the books, is all?” Milly asks, painfully hopeful.

 

“Uh, no. Haven’t read the books, either.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Milly looks much the way Jordan feels, like he just doesn’t understand.

 

“I haven’t read them,” Jordan says again.

 

“Right. What are you doing tonight?”

 

“Nothing much.”

 

“Wrong. You’re coming to my place, and we are going to watch _Harry Potter_.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“All of them.”

 

“Aren’t there, like, five of them or something? I can’t spend ten hours at your house watching films, Milly.”

 

“It’s eight, actually, and closer to twenty-four hours with deleted scenes in, and why, what else have you got to do?”

 

“I dunno! Eat? Sleep? Come to work tomorrow morning? I imagine you’re used to doing similar things, Mills!”

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair. I mean if it were offseason, then maybe, but… Well we’ll start with the first one tonight then. And don’t worry, I’ll make dinner.”

 

“Can you actually cook?” Jordan just wants to make sure, because he really can’t swing food poisoning right now, not in the middle of the season when they’re second and might be title contenders, and he doesn’t want to get ill just because Mills _thinks_ he can figure it out.

 

But Milly looks offended at the question.

 

“Of course I can cook! I’m a fully-functional adult who lives alone! Who can’t cook at our ages?”

 

Jordan blushes.

 

“Oh,” Milly says, eyes widening in realization, “well, come to mine tonight, Jordan. I’ll feed you up and you’ll go home having a clue about Harry Potter, so it’s win-win.”

 

He does, and Mills has made an amazing risotto with mushrooms and diced vegetables and it tastes like nothing Jordan’s ever eaten before.

 

It almost tastes better when they’re both sitting cross-legged on Milly’s comfy sofa, lights dimmed, and watching an eleven year old boy learn about magic and make friends and discover all sorts of new and lovely things.

 

Jordan has always thought that Harry Potter was a stupid, nerdy thing—not that he’d dare to say that to Mills, given what he knows now. But he was wrong. It’s fun, and interesting, and exciting. It makes him feel young again, somehow.

 

And it’s even _more_ fun with Milly’s commentary—how Harry’s eyes are supposed to be green, but the actor was allergic to the contact lenses, and so they kept them blue. How his little cousin Mary had a crush on the actor playing Oliver Wood. How Dean Thomas is the only character in the whole film to follow a football team… and he’s a _West Ham supporter_. How _Erised is desire backwards, did you notice that, Jordan?_

 

After the film ends, Jordan helps Milly wash the dishes and dry them, just to thank him for being a good host. He politely declines Milly’s offer of a cup of tea.

 

“Did you like it?” Milly is almost shy in the question.

 

“Yeah, it was brilliant, Mills.” Jordan says honestly. Milly beams at him.

 

He disappears for a moment and comes back bearing a worn out paperback.

 

“Here. It’s a pretty quick read. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but it gives you a richer picture than the films. And maybe next week you can come over and we can watch the next one.”

 

He drives home that night, stomach warm and full, and his mind thinking about Quidditch and Charms and Potions.

 

Mills smiles at him the next day, and Jordan takes that as a signal to ask all the questions that have built up in his head.

 

“So how does magic transfer? Hermione’s parents are dentists, right, but she has magic, but Ron’s whole family is magic, right? Is it like a genetic thing—if your whole family’s magic, you are too, and if your family’s not, you can still get it from a mutation? And Quidditch—how far does it go? Is professional Quidditch player a viable career choice? Are professional Quidditch teams separate for men and women or are they still mixed?”

 

Mills grins at him, really, really wide, and answers his questions patiently, one by one.

 

“You really should read the book, mate, she does a great job addressing questions like that.”

 

Jordan does. That very night, in fact. Milly’s right—it is a quick read. And it’s better than the films, and it answers all the questions Jordan’s had, or a lot of them, anyway.

 

He finishes the book in two days and brings it to training to give it back to Milly.

 

“Oh, did you not like it?” Mills asks, disappointed.

 

“No! I finished it.”

 

“Oh. Okay. Brilliant. So do you still want to come watch the second one next week?”

 

“I was just thinking, Mills,” Jordan starts, “and if we only watch one a week, it’s going to take two months to finish all of them.”

 

“And you can’t wait that long?” Milly asks, raising an amused eyebrow, and grin tugging at his mouth.

 

“I mean, I could, of course I could,” Jordan says, trying to sound less enthusiastic than he actually is, “I’d just… prefer not to.”

 

“This Friday. One a week. That’ll give you time to read the books in between.”

 

“It only took me two days for this one!”

 

“This is the shortest one, Jordan. The last one’s three or four times the size of this one, you know.”

 

“Oh. Next week sounds great.”

 


	2. Chamber of Secrets

The next Friday, Jordan just goes straight to Milly’s house after training.

 

“Right,” Mills says, “I haven’t cooked anything yet. Do you wanna help me cook or do you wanna do dishes?”

 

“Can’t I just sit here and watch?”

 

“You could. And then you could just sit there and watch me eat, too. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

 

“I’ll wash dishes.”

 

“Good lad. Proper Hufflepuff, you are.” Jordan beams at him, because he knows what that means, now.

 

“Which is the best house?” He asks Milly as he carefully stirs the pasta sauce.

 

“Taste this—is it okay? More salt, more pepper?” Milly asks absently.

 

“It’s brilliant, mate, honestly.”

 

“Right. What were you saying?”

 

“Which house is the best, out of the four?”

 

Milly stops. “Ah, yes. That’s… interesting and complicated. There could be a whole book written on that question alone.”

 

He stops and looks thoughtful, trying to formulate his response.

 

“Okay. It really depends on your values. Academics think Ravenclaw is the best, because they prize the pursuit of knowledge, generally speaking. Soldiers probably think Gryffindor is best, because they think sacrifice and fighting for a worthy cause is more noble than reading dusty old books. Politicians might tend to value Slytherin, ambition and knowledge of how to obtain your goals, even if it’s a little sneaky, the way you go about it. And lots of people think Hufflepuff is the best—that loyalty and hard work and just putting in the time is the most important attribute a person can have.

 

But even that is kind of reductive—it’s not much of a spoiler to say that Harry, Ron, and Hermione each have some qualities that are emblematic of other houses, but they’re all in Gryffindor. And you remember the Sorting Ceremony from the book, right?”

 

Jordan nods thoughtfully. “Harry could have gone either way,” he says slowly, “he asked not to be placed in Slytherin.”

 

“Exactly. Very good, Jordan. Therefore choice, as well as innate character, has a lot to do with what House you’re placed in, and Houses can only be judged by evaluating the merits and drawbacks of the people in them. Soldiers, to take that earlier example, might prize loyalty to each other just as much as bravery. Like if there’s a team in the Prem that’s full of twats, it’s a twattish team, not because of the team’s name, or their colors, but because of the people in it. And if someone watches Liverpool and sees you, and likes you, and thinks you’re representative of Liverpool, they’ll think Liverpool is, broadly speaking, made up of good people.”

 

“Okay. I think I get it,” Jordan says.

 

“Good. It’ll get clearer as we go along, and as you keep reading the books—the movies focus on the Gryffindors a little too much. And we can talk about the problems with that, when you get there.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Great. I think the sauce is good. Pasta’s done, or nearly done, and the fish is coming along nicely, so that’ll be a nice dinner for us to have while we watch _Chamber of Secrets_.”

 

Jordan likes the second one, too. It’s easier when he already knows about the Wizarding World a bit. And Milly is… not what Jordan had expected. He’s brilliant, sharp and funny as hell when he lets himself be, and he’s altogether much better company than Jordan had thought he would be.

 

This time, when Milly offers him a cup of tea as the ending credits are rolling, Jordan accepts. They listen to the music over the ending credits while they drink the tea and discuss the film. 

 

“I really like the music,” he says absently, “it’s so beautiful.”

 

Milly smiles at him. “Yeah, it’s pretty perfect.”

 

He drives home, with _Chamber of Secrets_ sitting on the passenger seat, another worn out paperback.

 

Milly’s name’s on the inside cover, in faded black ink. His handwriting’s neat and tidy, and he’s written a date on it as well, _4/8/2007_. It’s been read and reread probably a dozen times since then. Jordan wonders what Milly feels when he reads it.

 

Three days later, he returns the book to Milly.

 

“So the basilisk was there since Hogwarts was created? How’d Slytherin, you know, help it slither in? How did it survive for so long—and how long’s the school been open, anyway? Did it just eat those little tiny rats that were running around? Surely it couldn’t survive off of those alone…”

 

“Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you’re Cho Chang,” Milly says thoughtfully, “though Ced was undoubtedly also incredibly intelligent.”

 

He pauses. “You know what? We’ve been doing this the wrong way ‘round. From now on, you read the books first. I’ll bring you _Prisoner of Azkaban_ tomorrow, and we can push the movie date back a week.”

 

“No! I—I don’t want to wait,” Jordan says, half-embarrassed at his own eagerness.

 

“Can you manage it in a couple of days?” Milly asks, half-amused.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

He does it in one. But he doesn’t want to seem too eager, so he waits an extra day before mentioning it to Milly, even though this Harry Potter thing’s completely taken over his life since Milly dragged him into it.

 

“Are we still on for dinner, then?” Milly asks him on Friday morning.

 

Jordan pulls _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ out of his bag triumphantly.

 

“Damn straight,” he says unflinchingly. Milly laughs a little, and it makes Jordan feel all warm inside.

 

“Brilliant. I’ll make lasagna. Come over at seven.”

 

“Or I could come over right after training, help you cook,” Jordan offers shyly.

 

“Are you sure? That would be wonderful, if you don’t mind it. Yeah, come over after training, that’s perfect.” Milly smiles widely at him.


	3. Prisoner of Azkaban

That Friday is a historic night. It’s the night Jordan Henderson actually learns how to cook. He and Milly make lasagna together. It tastes like something his mum would make, when he was a kid.

 

“Shall we go the extra mile and make dessert as well?” Milly asks.

 

“We can’t eat dessert, I thought.”

 

“Course we can, we’ve just got to be creative about it. I make a lovely creamy vanilla custard, you know, and we can put lots of fruit in it and make it even better, and that’ll be nice, I reckon.”

 

“What do you need me to do?” Milly smiles at him, and soon Jordan’s chopping up lots of fruit while Milly whisks milk and egg yolks and vanilla extract together and sets it on the stove to simmer before adding a bit of brown sugar and flour and putting it into the fridge to sets.

 

“You don’t even measure things.”

 

“I did, the first few times, but eventually you sort of get an eye for it.” Mills shrugs.

 

They set the custard in the fridge—“I only like cold desserts,” Milly confides, and Jordan tucks that fact away into the growing folder in his brain labeled _James Milner_.

 

They settle on the sofa, cross-legged and balancing their plates in their laps. They both sit nearer the middle this time—keeping a bit of space between them but not sitting on opposite ends of the couch anymore.

 

“This one was darker,” Jordan says quietly, “Sometimes you almost forget that he’s an orphan, but you couldn’t get away from it this time.”

 

“But he finds his godfather, the closest thing he has to a dad, who loves him,” Milly points out quietly.

 

“But he can’t stay with him, either! He has to go back to his horrible family again, and it’s just not fair!”

 

“No, it’s not fair, but he finds a link to his parents, and that’s not a small thing, Jordan,” Milly says gently.

 

There’s a silence before Milly gets up and goes to the kitchen to start the tea. Jordan follows him, notes absently how Milly’s made his tea perfectly, and mumbles a thank you as he accepts the steaming mug, taking the first sip.

 

“I liked the animals in this one,” Jordan says after a few sips, “the werewolf and the boggart and Buckbeak—what is he again?”

 

“A hippogriff.”

 

“Hippogriff. I like that—I wish there were more of those.”

 

“They’re making another film—it’s called _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ It’s based on the guy who wrote one of Harry’s textbooks, actually. It’s set in the 1920’s. It’s all about magical creatures—you might like it. We can go see it together, if you like.” Milly seems almost shy in the offer.

 

“I’d love that.” Milly beams at him and Jordan beams back.

 

Milly presses _Goblet of Fire_ into his hands—it’s thicker than the others had been, and Jordan falters at the size of it. But then Milly leans in and hugs him goodbye, and Jordan feels warm all the way home. He climbs into bed and starts reading.

 

Before he turns out the light at night, he remembers suddenly that they have a match next Friday. What are they going to do?

 

Of course, it’s not that important, but it’s settling into Jordan’s routine, and he enjoys it. So the thought brews in his head until he shoves it away, because they also have a match _the next day_.

 

 

The match is on Saturday, the day after they watch _Prisoner of Azkaban_. Jordan scores a goal, and Milly puts it up on a plate for him, the perfect assist.

 

Jordan’s a professional. So when he scores and Milly sprints towards him and wraps him in his arms, he has purely professional thoughts. Even when Milly tucks his head in and presses a casual kiss to Jordan’s neck. _It’s just excitement. Just football,_ he thinks.

 

Because he’s a professional, he waits until Monday to ask Milly what they’re going to do this week. And because he’s a professional, he definitely does not go over ways he can start the conversation and not sound like a total loser who tells Ads that he can’t go out on Friday nights because he’s ‘busy.’

 

“What could you possibly be doing every Friday night?”

 

“I’m just busy for a few weeks, Ads! We’ll go out to Nando’s any other day you like. Or the cinema. Just… not Friday nights.”

 

“Fine. But you’re going to tell me about it someday.”

 

“Sure I will. Someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, like, I was originally thinking about making this eight chapters for the eight movies... But I was thinking of adding a few more--Fantastic Beasts, going to the studio tour, even... Christmas, too, with sweet little gifts that make me melt inside when i think of them. 
> 
> So, just letting you know this may go on a bit longer than intended. :D (I know, you're probably thinking wow, that's never happened before... point taken)


	4. The Goblet of Fire

That Friday, they have a match. It’s Sunderland. Afterwards, Kloppo calls it the most defensive team he’s ever played. They grind out a win, but that’s just it—it’s gritty and grinding, and it wears and tears at them. Afterwards, they’re all happy, yeah, but mostly they’re all just exhausted.

 

Jordan’s downing his third cup of caffeinated apple juice, and eyeing a fourth, when Kloppo comes into the locker room. He takes one look at them, and declares a spontaneous team dinner.

 

“Get showered, get dressed, and we’ll go as soon as I finish with the press.” Kloppo rolls his eyes at the mention of the press. Some of the more senior players let out quiet sympathetic hums. Zeljko looks, as always, incredibly happy that _he_ doesn’t have to deal with the press. Jordan would like to see that, actually, thinks a Zeljko Buvac press conference would be amazing to watch. He imagines the death glares he’d give to people asking stupid questions, kind of like Minerva McGonagall…

 

Speaking of which… He sidles up to Milly. “So what’s the plan for tonight, then, Mills?”

 

“Eat dinner, go home, and sleep?” He offers tiredly.

 

“Right, yeah, me too, we can just watch _Goblet of Fire_ some other time.” Jordan says hastily. “I’ve just got—I just remembered I have to tell Lucas something—“

 

“Wait, Jordan—“

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Come to mine tonight. If you’re not too tired, I’m not too tired. Late start tomorrow anyway, so we’ll be fine. I’ll make us some tea, and I think I have some ice cream in the fridge, but that’s it…” Milly sounds apologetic that he doesn’t have a four-course meal ready for Jordan to eat, which is kind of the cutest thing Jordan’s ever seen.

 

“Mills, that sounds absolutely fantastic.”

 

Dinner is fun, if a little quieter than team gatherings usually are. They break up into little groups, smaller conversations, and Jordan keeps an eye on everyone—the Brazilians and Alberto are happy, his little mini-squad of English lads is happy, the young boys, Trent and Ben, they’re happy, Studge has got Clyney on one side of him and Gini under his other arm, and Dejan’s speaking German with Emre and Loris, with Simon and Divock talking to Sadio in rapid-fire French.

 

“Relax, everything’s fine,” Milly whispers at his side.

 

“What? I am relaxed.”

 

“No. I’m relaxed. You’re still trying to be everyone’s dad. We don’t need you to be a dad, we just need you to be a captain. Everyone’s fine. I checked, too. Calm down, relax. Tell me what you thought about Goblet of Fire.”

 

“You said I was like Cedric, before. Before we started watching together. What did you mean?”

 

“You were, or I thought you were. Cedric’s a good boy. He’s fair, hardworking. He takes care of Harry as much as he can, given they’re competing against each other. He’s handsome and blond,” Milly says pointedly.

 

“But he dies,” Jordan says, confused.

 

“Everyone dies at some point, Jordan. You’re not so young that you don’t know that. Cedric’s death is a tragedy, a sign that sometimes bad things happen to the very best people. And Cedric Diggory is the only Seeker to beat Harry to the Snitch, in the third book, when the Dementors came and he passed out. Hufflepuff wins because of that, and Cedric tries to refuse the points, because it’s not fair to win against a younger kid who’s unconscious.”

 

“That’s… quite the compliment.”

 

“I mostly just meant that you were a hard worker and good at your job, mate. The other stuff was just upon further reflection. I wouldn’t take comparisons too seriously.”

 

“You said I was like Cho Chang, too.”

 

“She’s pretty and smart. You’re pretty and smart. Dunno, I just thought it fit, I guess.”

 

They boys disperse, tired but happy, and Jordan and Milly go to Milly’s house, taking two cars so Jordan can drive home afterwards.

 

Milly makes them each a cup of tea and puts on the film.

 

He’s quieter that night, but Jordan just assumes he’s tired. They’re sitting right next to each other, and Jordan just assumes he’s tired, until Milly’s head lands on his shoulder. He’s sleeping. Jordan smiles at him, and wraps an arm round him settling back to watch the film and saving his questions for the end.

 

He wakes up around the Yule Ball, when the wizard band starts playing rock music.

 

“What—oh, sorry, Hendo,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “I get tired after matches.”

 

“S’okay, Mills, you can use me as a pillow,” Jordan teases, “I don’t mind.”

 

“S’not good manners,” James says, covering his mouth as he yawns.

 

“Really, mate, it’s okay. Shouldn’t have done this tonight anyway. Today took a lot out of us.”

 

“D’you wanna pause it and go home?”

 

“Not really,” Jordan says sheepishly, “I’d like to finish it.”

 

“Kay. I’m gonna go make myself another cuppa tea. D’you want one?”

 

Jordan declines and Milly goes off to make his tea. He comes back a few minutes later with a plate of biscuits. He offers Jordan the plate, and dips his biscuits into his tea.

 

It’s a much more pleasant film, this one. Until they get to the maze, and Harry and Cedric are suddenly whisked away to some graveyard, and then it gets quite dark. Jordan inches a little closer to Milly.

 

 _There are another four films_ , he reminds himself. _Harry doesn’t die. Harry doesn’t die._

 

As it turns out, Harry really _doesn’t_ die in this film, which comes as a huge relief, even though Jordan’s been telling himself that for the past half hour.

 

At the ending credits, he nudges Milly, who’s fallen asleep against his shoulder again.

 

“I think I’d like that cup of tea now,” he says quietly. Milly takes one look at him and agrees, rising to go to the kitchen.

 

“That was awful,” he says, watching Milly bustle about and boil water and make tea. “Poor Cedric.”

 

“Yeah, it’s really sad,” Milly agrees.

 

He pauses and looks up at Jordan.

 

“I should warn you, mate, they’re only going to get darker from here on out.”

 

“I kind of figured that.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s true. But there’s funny moments too, in each of them, so it’s not all depressing. Do you want to keep watching?”

 

“Yeah, of course I do! Need to know how it ends, now that I’m in it.” Jordan says indignantly.

 

Milly laughs. He fetches _Order of the Phoenix_ and presses it into Jordan’s hands. It’s the biggest book yet, and he swallows.

 

“Next Saturday? We can do it in the morning, if you like. I’ll make breakfast, and then you can go take care of normal Saturday business,” He says.

 

“Why not Friday?”

 

“I have to go to Leeds on Friday. It’s kind of a family thing,” Milly looks uncomfortable, “but I’m driving back the same night, so I’ll be here Saturday morning. Might still be in my pajamas, but I’ll be here.”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Not really. My mum’s cousin died.”

 

“Shit, Milly, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Me too. But I’ve got to get home, be there for the funeral, and then I’m coming back that night.”

 

“We don’t have to, then, not the next morning—“

 

“Really, Jordan, it’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll probably make me feel better, honestly. Buy me some coffee on your way here, if you want to be extra nice.”

 

“Sure, Milly, whatever you need. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, yeah?”

 

“I will, Jordan, thank you. Now go home. I’m falling asleep standing up.”

 

Jordan turns to go.

 

“Wait, are you awake enough to drive home?”

 

“Probably?”

 

“Wow, that was confident,” Milly says dryly, “You can stay the night. I’ll go make up the guest bedroom, then.”

 

“Milly, really, it’s okay.”

 

“I’m not waking up to news that my captain’s died in a car crash, Jordan. Just stay the night, I make a brilliant breakfast, and then you can go home.”

 

“If it’s not too much of a bother.”

 

“You’re never a bother, Hendo.” The words are casual but heartfelt. They’ve come a long way in a month, Jordan thinks to himself. He wonders if it would be the same if he’d been busy that first night, when they’d watched _The Philosopher’s Stone_. He’s glad he wasn’t.

 

The next Friday, Jordan thinks about Milly, wonders about him all day.

 

He even texts him.

 

 _How’d it go? Hope you’re doing okay_. The text goes unanswered for a couple of hours, Jordan checking his phone every ten minutes or so with the poor excuse of having forgotten his watch.

 

Finally his phone lights up, and so does Jordan’s face when he sees who the message is from.

 

 _It was fine. I’m fine, taking a break on the drive back_. It’s short, to the point. It’s the sort of thing Milly would say with a little smile to soften the words—they seem harsher, the black lines and perfect punctuation on the screen of Jordan’s phone. Of course Milly doesn’t text and drive, he thinks. That’s why he didn’t respond.

 

_Do you wanna cancel tomorrow morning?_

_Can we push it to eleven? I’ll make brunch, but I might need a bit more sleep._

_We can cancel, Milly, really, if you need to rest._

_I want to. Want to watch HP with you, Hendo. Heading back to the road. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bring coffee if you love me._

 

It’s a typical Milly joke, but it reads different in text, just like before.

 

_If you love me._

_If you love me._

_If you love me._

 

Jordan shows up at eleven sharp the next day, coffee in hand.

 


	5. Order of the Phoenix

He hesitates before he knocks on Milly’s door, quieter than usual. There’s no answer for a minute, and he turns around, deciding to let Milly get some sleep. He’s going down the steps when Milly opens the door.

 

“Morning, Hendo,” he says, yawning and wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

 

He looks… weirdly cute, like a little boy, hair all mussed up, mouth curved into a sleepy, fond smile. He’s wearing light blue pajamas— _the pale blue of the City kit,_ Jordan thinks to himself, feeling oddly jealous about it.

 

 _Jealous of what, Jordan_ , he asks himself, frustrated, _his pajamas? Get a hold of yourself, you’re a grown man._

 

“Nice pajamas,” he says with a grin.

 

Milly looks startled by the comment, looking down as if he’s actually forgotten what he’s wearing.

 

“Oh, these! Goodbye gift from Charles,” he says laughing.

 

“Charles?”

“Joe, I guess you call him. Joe Hart?”

 

“Oh yeah, of course.”

 

There’s quiet for a moment.

 

“Well, come on in, mate,” Milly says, because Jordan’s still standing on the doorstep thinking about his City-colored pajamas, and _Jordan, he can wear whatever pajamas he wants to, stop being so weirdly possessive for no reason._

 

Milly yawns again and smiles at Jordan when he silently hands him his coffee.

 

“Guess you do love me, eh?”

 

“Guess so.”

 

He takes a cautious sip, like a kid who’s burnt his tongue far too many times not to have learned by now.

 

“And it’s perfect, just the way I want it. Thanks, mate. I’ll cook us up some eggs or omelettes or something. We can even do pancakes if you want to, lad. Or crepes, if you wanna take the risk. I’m not so good at them yet, but I’ll give it another go…”

 

“Let’s have them, then,” Jordan says with a grin. “Can’t get better without a little practice.”

 

Milly smiles at him, a rueful sort of _well-you-asked-for-it_ smile.

 

“How was the family thing?” he asks cautiously while Milly is mixing the crepe— _batter? Is it batter they use for this? Or dough? Is there even a difference between batter and dough?—_ deliberately avoiding the word _funeral_.

 

Milly doesn’t look at him. “It was fine,” he says, voice completely steady, not even a crack in his composure.

 

“Good,” Jordan says lamely. _You idiot, why did you say that? Of course it wasn’t good! It was a funeral, for fuck’s sake!_

 

James chops up a bunch of fruit and adds a bit of chocolate sauce, giving Jordan a little _don’t-tell-anyone_ wink.

 

_(When did James Milner learn how to wink, by the way?)_

 

He adds a bit of whipped cream to his, because he clearly doesn’t fear death by Zeljko—and gestures towards Jordan.

 

“You want some?”

 

“This stays between us,” Jordan croaks. Milly grins and adds a bit to his.

 

They settle on the sofa as usual, and start up the film, before Milly has to get up and close the curtains for the glare—he didn’t think it was that bad, but Jordan swore he would go blind, and, well, that probably wasn’t ideal, really.

 

This film is even darker than the last one, which Jordan should have expected, but still hurts, a little.

 

Milly gets up at a certain point near the end, walks away into the kitchen mumbling about tea.

 

Jordan understands why, when Sirius calls Harry by his father’s name and dies, leaving nothing behind, not even a body to clutch and cry over.

 

He understands why, when Harry, only fifteen, he reminds himself, still just a baby, screams in rage and anguish and grief and tries to curse the witch who killed the closest thing he had to a father.

 

When Milly comes back and sits down, hanging him a cup of strong, dark tea, Jordan stays quiet.

 

“After _Prisoner of Azkaban_ ,” he starts, “after that, I said it was unfair that he never got any time with Sirius, and you said at least they found each other.”

 

Milly nods.

 

“It’s not fair,” Jordan says. There’s a little quaver to his voice, and he takes a little sip of tea to try to disguise it, forcing himself to swallow past the lump in his throat.

 

“No. It’s not,” Milly says quietly.

 

“He’s so young.”

 

“They all are.”

 

“You can’t deal with Sirius’s death, can you.”

 

“I can deal with the others, but I struggle with this one, yes. There’s so much… so much lost potential. I know I shouldn’t care so much, but—“

 

“You care. ‘You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.’” Jordan quotes softly.

 

“Exactly,” Milly says with a decisive nod. “That’s what it is to be really, properly alive, Jordan. To care so much you feel as though you’ll bleed to death from the pain of it.”

 

“You’re quite deep for so early in the morning, Mills.”

 

“I know. I had a late night. I’m a bit sleep-deprived.”

 

“I’ll let you rest, then,” Jordan says quickly.

 

“That might be what I need, yeah. Thanks for agreeing to come round so early in the morning, I know it’s not great for a Saturday, but…”

 

“I enjoyed it, Mills. It was good. Even when it was bad, it was good.”

 

“That scene where the Minister of Magic finally eats his words at the end—proper satisfying, isn’t it?”

 

Jordan grins. He helps James clear the plates and the cooking supplies.

 

“Breakfast was amazing, Milly.”

 

James shrugs a little.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

 

Jordan pulls him into a tight hug, longer than usual, trying to make everything feel better, everything he can’t put into words. He lets go, after the hug’s threatening to go from comforting to borderline awkward.

 

“See you tomorrow, Mills.”

 

“ _Half Blood Prince_ next Friday night?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

And then Jordan steps out into the bright sunshine, book in hand, and drives back home.


	6. Half Blood Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan wakes up on Thursday feeling like death warmed over.
> 
> In which Jordan gets ill and Milly makes him soup.

Jordan wakes up on Thursday feeling like death warmed over.

 

Like, warmed over _in the microwave_.

 

The worst tasting death warmed over in a microwave, just long enough for the outside to get warm but the inside stays cold, so when you bit into it, it was icky and unpleasant.

 

That’s what Jordan feels like.

 

He calls the club, tells the doctor his symptoms, and goes in to get checked out.

 

They find out pretty quickly that he has laryngitis, a pretty bad case, to boot, and he can’t go near any of the other lads.

 

“Go home, Jordan,” the doctor says kindly, “let’s see how you feel tomorrow.”

 

He sleeps the rest of the day, waking up and dragging himself to the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, to make himself a cup of tea with a generous amount of honey and lemon.

 

He heats up some canned soup, too, tries to force it down, but it’s not nice, and he only manages a bit before he can’t stomach any more.

 

He’s coughing and his throat’s all sore, and his voice is half gone, and he’s just huddled in bed all day, watching telly on the computer because even the sofa seems too far, right now.  
  
Milly calls him later that night, and Jordan picks up, which is stupid, because he has literally no voice, and determination and willpower make him try to force it, which means his voice cuts in and out like a 1920’s radio crawling with static.  
  
“Jordan?”  
  
“Hel—“ He coughs hard, tries to clear his throat, and fails.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Si—“  
  
“Jordan? I’m having trouble understanding you. Is it the signal?”  
  
Jordan heaves a silent sigh and hangs up.  
  
He writes a note and takes a picture of it to send to Milly.  
  
_Laryngitis. Can’t talk, have no voice_.  
  
Milly texts him back. _Get some rest and get well soon!_  
  
There’s a little flower emoji next to the words, which is really sweet and kind of melts Jordan’s heart a little.  
  
Another text comes in a minute later. _Emre showed me—there’s more pictures than smiley faces!_  
  
_I know,_ Jordan replies, laughing silently. He replies with a bunch of hearts and stars and whatever random emojis he likes.  
  
Soon, Milly’s just sending him pictures of different emoji and commenting on them. He sends four of five sick-looking ones in a row, asking _is this you right now?_ after each one.  
  
Jordan sends back a skull and crossbones. _No, this is me right now._  
  
_You’re such a drama king_ , James replies, with a crown emoji after the words.  
  
_And you’re my queen, Milly_ , Jordan says, adding a kissy emoji as he shuffles back to bed, slightly less miserable than he was when he left.  
  
_Go to sleep, Hendo, I’ll call you tomorrow._  
  
Jordan wants to point out that calling tomorrow probably won’t do any more good than calling today had done, but he’s pretty tired and he just sends back a careless _k bye_ followed by a heart and goes to sleep.

 

 

He wakes up the next morning, brings himself down for some food of some kind, adding another blanket because he’s weirdly cold. It’s the same as yesterday, only substituting oatmeal for yesterday’s soup.

 

 _Ha ha_ , he thinks, _Substitution. Offensive or defensive substitution? Maybe it’s a like-for-like._

 

He texts Milly. _Oatmeal for soup. Like-for-like substitution?_

 

Milly texts him back instantly. _Hold on, I’m coming over._

Jordan looks at his phone, stares at the words.

 

_Coming over to where?_

_Your place, Hendo_.

 

Jordan’s first thought is excitement, because Milly’s coming over! His second thought is that he’s an awful, disgusting mess and his hair isn’t nice and his place is all messy and horrible. His third thought is excitement again, because _Milly!_ He considers having a shower and trying to look half-human again, at least, but the mere thought of it saps all his energy away and so he just lies on the couch, turns on the telly, and has a little snooze until he hears the knocking.

 

He thinks it’s the telly, until the sound gets a bit louder. He groans and drags his two blankets behind him as he goes to the door, bracing himself for the cold air before he opens it.

 

“Come in,” he croaks, vocal chords grating together, remembering all of a sudden why speaking was a bad idea.

 

Milly looks taken aback at his appearance, or his voice, or the fact that he’s wrapped in blankets like a little kid, or some combination of the three.

 

He steps in and Jordan closes the door quickly, shuddering a little at the temperature. Milly reaches out to put a hand on his forehead, which is way more intimate than they normally are, and a bit of a surprise, and Jordan doesn’t quite flinch, but he does pull back.

 

“You have a fever,” Milly announces, “where’s the kitchen?”

 

Those are two separate sentences, probably, but Milly says them like they’re related, and honestly, they might be in some really obvious way, but Jordan’s a lot stupider than he normally is right now, so… He stands there, trying to figure it out.

 

Milly stares at him for a few seconds.

 

“Jordan! Where is the kitchen?”

 

“Here,” Jordan says. Or tries to say. His mouth makes the shape, but his voice doesn’t work. He keeps forgetting about that. He sighs, and walks towards the kitchen, gesturing at Milly to follow him.

 

They work out a system soon enough, with simple gestures.

 

“Pot for soup?” Milly asks. Jordan pats the nearest cabinet and then points to a different one.

 

James pulls the pot out and puts a bag of groceries on the counter. Jordan must be really out of it, because he honestly didn’t even notice the groceries. Maybe he was too busy wondering at Milly’s hand on his face.

 

“Cutting board and knife?” Milly asks. Jordan pats a drawer and points. Milly rests his hand on a drawer. Jordan shakes his head and points further left. Milly puts his hand on the next drawer handle and Jordan nods.

 

“Kettle and tea supplies? You’ll need some, chamomile, probably, lots of honey and lemon. And meds, go fetch whatever the doctor gave you, I’ll call and see if we need to add a fever reducer.”

 

Jordan nods and goes to fetch his little pill bottle, and the dosage instructions.

 

James is incredible. He starts up a soup, makes up a simple chicken broth with a few vegetables and little pasta shells inside—way better than whatever canned stuff Jordan had been working with.

 

While the soup is cooking, he calls the doctor, asks about how contagious it is and whether he should add that fever reducer in after all. He holds the phone against his ear with his shoulder, and pulls out the kettle, boiling some water, enough for both of them, and pours out some tea while maintaining a coherent conversation and watching the soup.

 

Jordan’s exhausted just watching, honestly. He sits on a barstool at the counter and just watches Milly work his magic. He gets bored eventually and goes to fetch some sticky notes and a pen so he can communicate a bit, at least say thank you.

 

Milly doesn’t notice the note at first, after he hangs up the phone and focuses on adding the right amount of honey to the tea and adding a bit of salt to the soup.

 

Jordan claps his hands together to make a sound. When Milly sees him, he opens his mouth instinctively before shutting it again and waving the note.

 

_Why are you here?_

 

“Do you want me to go?”

 

Jordan shakes his head vigorously, but points at the note again.

 

“You sent me a text wondering if oatmeal for soup was an attacking or a defensive substitution, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t delirious.”

 

Jordan takes the sticky note back and scribbles something on the bottom of it.

 

_Thank you._

 

“You’re welcome, mate. Besides, it’s Harry Potter night, thought it might cheer you up.”

 

Jordan grins and claps his hands excitedly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, go sit on the sofa, I’ll bring the soup and tea in a bit, with your meds, okay?”

 

Jordan underlines the _thank you_ on the note and adds an exclamation mark and a little heart.

 

“No problem, Hendo, glad to help. Now go put the DVD on, it’s in the bag with the food, I’ll be there in half a minute… Bowls?”

 

Jordan points at a cabinet and holds up two fingers to say they’re on the second shelf.

 

He goes to put the film on, listening to the music as the menu comes up and settling into the couch, cuddling harder into his blankets. Milly comes in and hands him a warm bowl of soup and sets his teacup on the table. He brings his own soup and tea and sits at the other end of the couch. Jordan turns and settles his back against the armrest and extends his legs, tucking his toes under Milly’s leg.

 

“Did you manage to finish the book?”

 

Jordan nods—there hadn’t been much else to do while he was ill.

 

“I’m glad.”

 

 _Half-Blood Prince_ is… a lot. It’s like someone took the final battles of Order of the Phoenix and Goblet of Fire and decided that the whole movie should be that way, with an extra helping of suspiciously-helpful books.

 

“Hey,” Milly pats his shoulder gently, “If you wanna sleep, tell me, I’ll pause it, okay?”

 

Jordan nods, but he’s not sleepy, not even a little bit. All he’s done for a day and a half is sleep—he’s more tired of that than anything else.

 

And, bizarrely, this is kind of the most fun he’s had all week. He hadn’t even realized how sad he had been about missing their weekly Harry Potter night until Milly had shown up at his door, and Jordan had gotten all _happy,_ fever and all. He’d assumed that it had been being sick that had made him so miserable, but apparently it hadn’t been.

 

Milly stands up in the middle of the film, and returns with a bowl of ice cream he hands to Jordan.

 

 _Thank you_ , Jordan mouths, surprised.

 

“Eh, you’re sick. Just don’t tell the club, yeah?”

 

Jordan nods.

 

As the ending credits roll, Milly turns to him.

 

“Do you have any questions?”

 

Jordan nods, and Milly hands him the pen and sticky note pad.

 

_Harry + Ginny? When?_

 

“Oh. Yeah. That’s a pretty common question, Hendo. I think it’s just that—you know how sometimes you don’t realize how much you want something until you see someone else with it? It was like that with my first crush. Didn’t even realize until she was kissing Ethan.” He shrugs a little woefully. “I was a pretty naïve kid.”

 

Milly smiles at him, warm and sincere, and Jordan thinks of City-blue pajamas and nods. He does know the feeling.

 

_Like Ron about Herm + Krum at Yule Ball?_

 

“Exactly.” Milly leans forward and Jordan doesn’t understand. He thinks of Harry and Ginny in the Room of Requirement and closes his eyes…

 

Only to feel a cool hand on his brow. He opens his eyes, feeling like an absolute idiot.

 

“Fever’s down, I reckon. Still, take another fever reducer before you bed, yeah? Don’t want your temperature coming back up while you sleep.” Milly laughs, a little awkward, and stands up. Milly cleans up, puts the plates in the dishwasher, and puts away the leftover soup, with instructions on how to heat it up again.

 

Jordan walks him to the door. Well, ‘walks’ is generous—he shuffles along behind him, still wrapped in a blanket.

 

“Good night, mate. And hurry up and get better, yeah? I need you. Young lads aren’t gonna reign themselves in, and I like being the good cop.”

 

Jordan gapes, miming fury.

 

 _Then what am I?_ He mouthes, exaggerating the shape of the words so Milly can read them more easily.

 

“Their captain, Hendo. That’s what you are. Get better.”

 

Those are Milly’s parting words as he turns and walks down to his car, opening the door and waving to Jordan, who shuts the door, shivering a little, and takes his pills and goes to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to aim to have this finished by the end of the week (which may be slightly too ambitious, and delayed if I'm not as good as I think I am or if it's harder than expected to get words out of my head onto the page, either of which is incredibly possible).
> 
> But a week and a half, max!
> 
> Next time: It's international break when Jordan gets a text ordering him to turn on the telly.


	7. Interlude 1--Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys come trudging in on the morning of Christmas Day. They all look pretty unenthused about being there--until it comes time to exchange presents. 
> 
> In other news, Jordan and Milly are incredibly good gift-givers.

It was Christmas Day and all the lads are trickling into the dressing room, each with various forms of “let’s-hurry-up-and-get-this-way-over-with” and “I-wish-we-didn’t-have-to-be-here” written all over their faces.  
  
At least until Jordan pulls out a heavy bag full of presents and started handing them out. As if that was a signal, the others follow suit, Milly and Ads the first to grin and pull gifts out of seemingly nowhere to give the other boys. It brings a smile to everyone’s faces.  
  
Jordan gives Milly his present last of all, blushing a little and looking away. Milly smiles and thanks him generously before he’s even opened it. He pulls the paper open, pulling the tape off neatly and barely ripping at all.  
  
He gasps as he sees the glint of gold.  
  
“Is this…?” Milly asks breathlessly.  
  
He picks up the little replica time turner reverently, the same glass hourglass filled with perfect white sand, the same poem carved around the rims of the rings. His hands are gentle as he gently pushes on one of the rings to rotate it, the way Hermione had done in _Prisoner of Azkaban_. It gives, much to his delight.  
  
“Guess there was one they missed in the _Order of the Phoenix_ ,” Jordan says quietly, “It can’t turn back time, but it can help you remember, and that’s nearly as good.”  
  
Milly tears his eyes away from the beautiful golden time turner and turns to the red cloth it had been resting on.  
  
“And these are… pajamas?” he asks, chuckling.  
  
“Liverpool pajamas—you can’t wear City colors to bed anymore, Mills,” Jordan says mock seriously.  
  
Milly laughs, loud and bright, and pulls him into a hug.  
  
“Now yours is going to seem terrible,” he mutters, still smiling at the time turner resting in the palm of his hand. He puts it down gently on the pajamas before pulling a neatly wrapped box out of his bag and handing it to Jordan.  
  
Jordan rips off the paper, a little self-conscious about the messiness of it, after Milly’s surgical precision.  
  
It’s a bunch of CDs, the soundtracks of all the Harry Potter films, along with a thin hardback book labeled _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.  
  
“Gotta read it before we go see the film, don’t we?” Milly asks with a shrug at Jordan’s grin, “I wrote a note on the inside cover.”  
  
Jordan opens the cover and sees Milly’s neat handwriting.  
  
_To Jordan, my friend and my captain,_  
  
_May you have the wisdom of Ravenclaw and the bravery of Gryffindor._  
  
_May you receive the same Hufflepuff loyalty you give so freely and may your hard work be celebrated._  
  
_And may your ambitions be realized, as every Slytherin’s ought to be._  
  
_I’ll be there to help, whatever you need._  
  
_\--Milly_  
  
And that’s it. That’s the moment when Jordan realizes he might be a little bit in love with his vice-captain.  
  
“Thank you,” he says softly, “It’s amazing. Perfect, really.”

 _Just like you_ , he thinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got another chapter written up already! And after that, I'm afraid there are only three more left and I think this will be all wrapped up!


	8. Deathly Hallows, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's international break, so they've pushed their movie day back a week. But when Deathly Hallows part One is playing on telly, Milly thinks it's a good idea to watch it together and text back and forth. 
> 
> He'd forgotten how hard it was, the first time. Jordan reminds him. 
> 
> In which there is text flirting, a lot of all caps, and Adam feels so bad he makes Jordan a cup of pity-tea, mostly because he has no idea what's happening, but Jordan's crying over the telly and it's kind of freaking him out.

The next week is international break. Jordan is away with England. Milly is still in Liverpool, old enough that most of the kids left could be his, coparenting with Lucas. He and Jordan decide by mutual agreement to move Deathly Hallows back a week. Maybe Jordan wants to draw it out, wants it to last a little longer, but he’s not going to say that. He’s just… really grateful for international break, is all.

 

He also hates it, because Jordan Henderson is a boring old man in a young body and he likes his routines. And Friday nights eating Milly’s food and watching Harry Potter had sunk into his routine at some point, enough that he instinctively disliked anything that could potentially interfere with it.

 

He was in the hotel at the training camp when he heard his phone buzz.

 

 _Are you free?!_ The message is from Milly. _Aww,_ Jordan thinks, _he wants to talk to me, misses me, that’s so sweet, I’ll call him when I get a chance._

_Yeah, just relaxing. Hanging out with Ads._

_Put on the telly. Channel 18. Now!!_ Milly’s added a series of emojis to emphasize the urgency of the order. Jordan smiles fondly down at the phone, shrugs at Ads, and does.

 

He grins as he hears the familiar introductory music, and laughs out loud when the title shows up.

 

_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One._

 

He texts Milly. _Perfect timing!_

 

 _Wish we could watch together :’(_ Milly writes back.

 

 _Wish I was eating your custard_ , Jordan responds before recoiling in horror at the completely unintentional innuendo.

 

But Milly was pretty innocent, a good guy, maybe he wouldn’t pick up on it—

 

_Yeah? I’d love to have my custard eaten by someone as pretty as you._

 

Jordan blushes slightly and coughs, causing Adam to look over at him.

 

“Y’alright, Jord?”

 

“Yeah, fine. Just a tickle in my throat.”

 

_Fair warning, this one’s kind of dull. And sad._

 

Milly is right. Jordan’s heart is breaking over an owl in under half an hour. And then George’s ear.

 

And then Bill and Fleur’s wedding, this incredible bright spot… tarnished and ruined.

 

 _I always knew that Umbridge bitch couldn’t be trusted_ , he sends to Milly.

_Yeah, I know. Really satisfying to know that she’s so wretched and spineless and weak._

 

A little bit later—after they’ve found the Horcrux and things seem to actually be going well for once—

 

_OMFG RON WTF?!?_

_Yeah, poor Ron_ , Milly writes back.

 

_NO! Not poor Ron! Poor Harry!_

_Ron’s away from his family, Jordan, he doesn’t know if they’re still alive or not. Poor Harry, yeah, but poor Ron, too. And poor Hermione, erasing her parents’ memories!_

_Snake lady?!?_

_Scares the shit outta me every time._

_Harry’s wand?!?_

_I know, that is really sad._

_Luna’s dad?!?_

_Well, he’s desperate, Jordan, wants his little girl back. I’d do the same if it were my kid on the line._

_Luna!!!_

_I know, I love Luna too, she’s just awesome._

Milly texts him just as the tale of the three brothers is ending.

_There’s a theory that the three brothers represent Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry—Dumbledore has the wand, Snape would do anything for his dead love, and Harry has the cloak._

And then—Dobby. Well, _shit_.

 

Milly texts him first.

 

 _Dobby was a free elf, and a good one, too_. He says simply.

 

Jordan isn’t exactly _proud_ of it, but he cries a bit. Adam pats him awkwardly on the shoulder before sighing and pulling him into a hug.

 

_WHY DOBBY HE WAS A GOOD ELF WHO LIKED SWEATERS AND SOCKS_

_WHY IS SHE SO CRUEL TO US_

_WE WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT LOVE HER_

_I’M NOT JOKING HERE JK_

_I HOPE YOU’RE NOT ROWLING ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING_

_Jordan. I think you need to have a cuppa tea now. Drink some tea, go to bed, it’ll be better in the morning._

_It’s never going to be better. I’m going to cry over Dobby forever!!!_ Jordan sends a few weeping emoji just to further his point.

_I know, lad, I know it hurts._

 

“Can you make me a cup of tea, Adam?” Jordan whines pitifully. Adam takes one look at him and does, even though he normally might’ve argued.

 

_IT’S ALMOST OVER I’M NOT READY_

_Why don’t you turn off the telly, Hendo? Come over to mine next week and we’ll watch the last one together. You might need a bit of emotional support._

_Use the time to get emotionally prepared, yeah?_

_Okay, Milly._

_You shouldn’t have retired from England, mate, then we could’ve watched this together._

_Interesting offer, but someone’s got to be around looking out for the kids while you’re away, might as well be me._ Jordan doesn't quite know what to say, but he doesn't have to know, really, because his phone buzzes again. Of _course_ James Milner would be the type of lad who wouldn't be uncomfortable double-texting someone. 

_You coping okay? It can be hard the first time. Deathly Hallows is just emotional gut-punch after gut-punch, mate._

Jordan smiles because Milly's concerned, and that's, well, in a word it's adorable, really. 

 

_Adam’s making me a cuppa tea._

_Okay. Are you okay? Maybe we should have watched it together. I’d forgotten what it was like, that first time._

_You always remember your first, eh, Milly?_

 

 _Fuck off, Henderson._ Jordan grins at his phone. It buzzes again a moment later.

 

 _But yeah, you do. Hope I’m doing a good job with you._ And then all the flirtiest emojis James can find, which include the crooked smirky one and the kissy-winky one, and the regular winky one and a regular smiley— _because smiles can be sexy, Jordan!_ —and hearts of all colors.

 

Oh god, Jordan’s in love with a man who texts like a teenager.

 

He’s screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I like to keep a chapter back, so I can reread it and have a starting point for the next chapter. However, this is the last one I've got written up at the moment. 
> 
> The only reason this is up already is because of sweeticedtea--I saw your review and though you've probably gone to sleep by now (I hope!), this one's for you. :)
> 
> And yes, I did update it while you were reading, so you've just got great timing, I guess. 
> 
> Now it's time to decide whether to go to bed like a normal human or to stay up and keep writing like an idiot who likes suffering at work. :D


	9. Deathly Hallows, pt. 2

The next Friday is reassuringly normal, or it fits what Jordan has recently begun describing as a normal Friday. They train in the morning, have a break and lunch, and then have the afternoon session.  
   
When they’re done with that, though, Jordan and Milly drive to Milly’s house, and they make dinner—today it’s quinoa with peppers and tomatoes and mushrooms, with salt and pepper and chicken breasts.  
   
Milly is officially a miracle worker. Nobody had ever made quinoa taste so _good_ before. Or good at all, really.  
   
They taste each thing together and Jordan stirs the vegetables sautéing while Milly checks on the chicken breast, and it feels blissfully domestic, the whole thing.  
   
He finishes his food early on in the film, before the Golden Trio decides to rob Gringotts. Because Harry’s apparently gone from adorable little boy to hardened criminal over the course of seven years.  
   
Robbing Gringotts is exciting, though. He’s glad he’s finished with his food so he can properly pay attention. He gets up to put the plate on the table, and when he sits down again, he’s closer to Milly, leaning against him. Milly stiffens a little—this, this isn’t quite them, or not the way they have been, at least, but he relaxes into it a second later.  
   
Milly finishes his food not long after. He gets up to put the plates away, and when he comes back to the sofa, he settles back in the same spot, maybe even a little bit closer.  
   
If Milly’d been a girl, Jordan would be pretty confident in labeling this as snuggling.  
   
Milly’s not, of course, but Jordan thinks it might still be. Hopes it is, at least.  
   
Jordan considers taking Milly’s hand in his own, considers it for quite a while, from when the Trio hide in the Hog’s Head until the Ravenclaw’s diadem is destroyed by Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.  
   
He decides against it, but leans his head on Milly’s shoulder instead, even if Milly’s shorter than him and he has to slouch a lot. It’s easier, watching this way. It hurts less to see all the characters that have nestled into his heart suffer when he’s leaning into Milly  
   
When Ron and Hermione kiss, something in him breaks open in the best possible way, at the display of love through such trying circumstances. It’s silly to make the comparison, but he thinks about Milly, after Basel.  
   
Milly cries, when Fred dies. So does Jordan, a little.  
   
“Poor George,” whispers Milly.  
   
“Poor Teddy,” Jordan responds, not a correction but an addition—Lupin and Tonks holding hands even in death is devastating.  
   
Harry goes into the forest and faces his fate.  
   
Hagrid carries him, like a ragdoll, so his friends can see the boy they loved dead.  
   
Harry jumps out, and Neville kills the snake.  
   
“Thatta boy, Neville,” Milly says softly, “I always liked that boy. Named my plant after him. Neville’s a good plant, lots of flowers.”  
   
The final scene is… weird. There’s a lot of flying and stuff that definitely didn’t happen in the book Jordan read, at least.  
   
Finally, the Dark Lord is defeated and the Trio stand in the rubble, watching Harry throw away the Elder Wand.  
   
“Oh, wait for it,” says Milly, the words the vocal equivalent of a cringe.  
   
Ah yes, the epilogue. They’re all there, looking like unnaturally pretty people in their thirties, with Ginny and Hermione wearing proper mom-hair and Harry’s own hair a little greyer. Draco doesn’t seem to have aged as well, given a receding hairline and thinning blond hair that isn’t quite enough to erase the innate handsomeness of Tom Felton’s face.  
   
And then there’s the music again, the music that Jordan puts on before he goes to sleep these days, and puts on during breakfast in the mornings, and puts on while he showers, the music that wraps around him like a blanket and holds him tight and rocks him to sleep.  
   
“So that’s it, then,” he says faintly, “We’ve finished. No more movie nights?”  
   
“Well, that depends, Jordan.”  
   
“On what?”  
   
“I was thinking about going to the studio tour—they have all the props from the films and everything, it’s like a proper museum almost. D’you wanna come with me?”  
   
Jordan grins at him. “That’s not a movie night, though.”  
   
“No. There’s always Fantastic Beasts, though, it just came out a few weeks ago, most of the rush will have died down. You up for it?”  
   
Jordan smiles at him, leans in closer, close enough to see the way Milly’s eyes widen a little, the way he gulps nervously. He presses his mouth gently to Milly’s, just for a moment.  
   
“Yeah, I do think I’m up for it,” he says as he pulls away.  
   
Milly is… red.  
   
Very red.  
   
But he’s also smiling.  
   
“Good,” he whispers.  
   
They don’t say anything about it, mostly because they both go too red to even talk about it, really.  
   
Jordan makes the tea, this time, bustles around Milly’s kitchen trying not to bask in the admiring gaze he feels aimed at his back. He knows how Milly likes it, of course, knows where the kettle is and where the teabags are and what kind of milk Milly uses, the little carton of creamy whole milk nestled away in the corner of the fridge. He even pulls out the honey, because Milly likes that better than sugar in his tea.  
   
He sets the mug in front of Milly and smiles at him.  
   
“There you are,” he says casually, fighting to suppress the stupid little lovestruck—one might even say… _moony_ —smile that’s itching to burst free.  
   
“Thanks,” Milly says hoarsely, staring at the cup. He lifts it to his mouth, blows air over it gently, and takes a cautious sip, letting out a quiet little hum of appreciation.  
   
“It’s perfect, Jord,” he says.  
   
It’s the final straw. Jordan can’t keep the smile away any longer and it bursts across his mouth.  
   
“Good,” he says, hiding his smile behind his own mug of tea.  
   
They stare at each other for a few moments longer, until Jordan breaks the silence with a remark about the films, how elegantly everything had been tied together, questions he still has, about Harry’s ancestry and the Peverell’s, and Dumbledore and Grindelwald—  
   
“Oh. They were in love.”  
   
“What?”  
   
“Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They were in love. Or at least Dumbledore was. He loved him, that’s why he let him get away with so much, and that’s why it’s tragic that he was the one to stop him, in the end.”  
   
Jordan gapes.  
   
“There’s more about it in _Fantastic Beasts_ , from what I understand, Jordan. Just barely. A hint of it.”  
   
“So can I take you out next weekend? We can go watch it together,” Jordan says nervously. He likes to do things properly. If they’re going to snuggle, he wants to call it snuggling, damn it, and he doesn’t want to wonder if Milly snuggles everyone, or wears City-colored pajamas, or shows everyone the Harry Potter films who hasn’t seen them before.  
   
“Like a date,” he clarifies unnecessarily.  
   
“ _Like_ a date, or a date?” asks Milly with a grin. Honestly, Jordan doesn’t even know why he _likes_ him. (Okay, maybe he does know, a little.)  
   
“The second one. A date. A real one.”  
   
“Then yeah. You can take me out. And then _I’ll_ take _you_ out, we’ll have a day trip out to the studio some time, when we don’t have training.”  
   
“That sounds brilliant, Milly.”  
   
They smile at each other like idiots for awhile before Jordan clears his throat and reluctantly announces that he has to go.  
   
Milly pouts, which he should never do again because Jordan will probably do anything he wants if he does, and walks him to the door.  
   
Jordan’s just leaving when Milly pulls him back in, presses a proper kiss to his surprised mouth, slow and thoughtful, and it’s _just like Milly_ to do a thing right when he does it.  
   
“Good night, Hendo,” he says softly.  
   
_No! Wait! I wanna go to bed with you! Let me stay, wanna be with you forever!_ The twelve-year-old voice in Jordan’s head screams.  
   
“Good night, Mills,” his adult self says, bashful smile on his face.  
   
Milly watches him go, silhouette illuminated by the hallway light as Jordan pulls out of the driveway, door only closing when he starts driving down the road.  
   
Jordan has only one thought in his head.  
   
(Okay, that’s just not true. Only one of the numerous thoughts swirling around his head is suitable to share, though.)

 

_He fucking loves Harry Potter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neville the plant is real. My college gave out free plants during orientation week. I not only kept mine alive for all four years, but he now lives in my bedroom at home. 
> 
> His name is Neville because Neville Longbottom loves plants. He's a gorgeous motherfucker, loads of flowers. He even had a little baby, Neville Jr., who lives in his pot with him. Either he or Neville Jr. had another baby, Neville III, who perished when I went away on vacation because he was more delicate than his forebears. 
> 
> RIP Neville III, your legacy lives on.


	10. Epilogue One: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

The next week, they’re almost stupidly transparent—Jordan laughs loud and obligingly at all of Milly’s stupid jokes, and most of them are about Harry Potter, so it’s pretty much the two of them and Trent and Ben dying with laughter while Studge rolls his eyes and teases them for being dorks, making Adam and Gini and Dejan laugh.

 

They jog together, and even though Stevie had told him not to pick favorites amongst his squad, he can’t help it. He loves all the lads—they’re all kind and funny and generous and surprisingly sweet and unfailingly supportive. But… Milly has the stupid spiked up hair like it’s still 2007, and when he smiles really wide—

 

Well, when he smiles really wide, Jordan melts a little inside, because Milly has _dimples_ and a man his age has absolutely no right to look that cute and cuddly.

 

And he gets shy and self-conscious sometimes, as if he’s never been flirted with before, even though he must have, with a face like that.

 

He just—he’s kind of perfect. And not in the intimidating, _oh my god how am I even supposed to **talk** to you _ sort of way, but in the _I could spend the rest of my life talking to you, you adorable bastard_ sort of way.

 

If that makes sense.

 

Jordan suspects it doesn’t make much sense, because he sounds kind of pathetic even inside his own head—it must sound even worse on the outside.

 

On Thursday night, he has trouble sleeping.

 

On Friday during training, he finds himself caught in the unusual dilemma of alternately staring at Milly like an idiot and being unable to maintain eye contact with him, which is ridiculous, because it’s _Milly_.

 

After training, he pulls Milly aside.

 

“Dress nice,” he says, “casual, but nice. I’ll pick you up at seven. We’re getting dinner before we go to the cinema, okay?”

 

It really eases the pressure, knowing Milly the way he does, even before their first date. First _official_ date. There’s less worrying about what to wear, about how perfect his hair looks—Milly’s already seen him naked, for heaven’s sake, and sick as a dog, and crying in the shower after the FA Cup Final last year. There’s nothing Milly hasn’t seen of him, really. Except what he’s like on a date.

 

That doesn’t mean there’s _no_ pressure, though. He runs around like mad during the time between training and having to leave to pick Milly up, trying to make sure things are ready, praying to a god he only half-believes in, who, if he’s real, will probably know that Jordan Henderson only ever asks for favors, never says thank you.

 

He puts on a nice shirt and his least-ripped jeans—just a little rip at the knees—he’s a classy guy. He looks good. He takes a deep breath and goes to Milly’s house to pick him up.

 

He immediately feels underdressed, like he’s way out of his league. Milly looks… incredible. He’s wearing a shirt that makes his eyes seem even more beautiful, and nice dark jeans that aren’t ripped even a little bit.

 

“Hi,” he says as he opens the door.

 

“Hey. Are you ready?” James nods. Normally Jordan would open a lady’s door for her, but Milly would probably just laugh at the gesture, and it’s a silly thing, anyway. But he does walk close next to him as they go down to the car, hand reaching out and catching hold of Milly’s for just a second before they part to opposite sides of the car.

 

“I thought we were getting dinner,” Milly says as they get closer.

 

“We are.”

 

“But we’re not going towards a restaurant, we’re going towards your place.”

 

“I know. I cooked. Hope you’ve made your peace with God, Mills, because I’m not making any promises.”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Or if it’s not, we’ll buckle down and make something together, it’ll be okay.”

 

Jordan smiles at him, reaches across the gearshift to pat him gently on the leg.

 

They get to the house and Jordan prays that everything’s okay. He checks the pizza that he’s made and shows it to Milly with a little flourish.

 

It’s not bad, for a second attempt, considering how the first one went. A little browner than it should be round the edges, but the thick crust is cooked well, and the sauce that Jordan made (from scratch!) is well seasoned, not too much oregano, which is what the recipe warned about, and the cheese is all melty and gooey on top. He’s added some mushrooms and vegetables and a bit of chicken to the pizza, and it all looks pretty good.

 

Milly is staring at it for an uncomfortably long time. _Oh god, he hates it_. _He hates it and he hates Jordan and this date is a trainwreck and Jordan’s going to die alone, just like that dick Tommy from school had said he would—_

“Might not be the best thing you’ve ever had, but—“ Jordan says, trying to ease the silence away.

 

“It’s perfect. It just looks… perfect, Jordan.”

 

It’s not perfect. Objectively speaking, that’s untrue. The dough isn’t quite entirely circular, it’s weirdly ovular, and it’s a bit darker than golden brown in some spots, and some of the vegetables are cut to uneven sizes.

 

It’s not perfect.

 

But Milly likes it.

 

And Jordan is no stranger to the way people in love can exaggerate sometimes, so he smiles.

 

“Thank you. You wanna try it, or shall I, so we can see if it can actually kill us—“

 

Milly smacks his arm. “Don’t you dare, Jordan Henderson. Don’t you dare talk bad about my date, or the most delicious looking pizza I’ve ever seen. I’m eating the whole thing, you’ll just have to eat popcorn at the cinema.”

 

“The whole thing, Mills? Be kind, share some with your lad, won’t you?”

 

“Fine. But don’t say anything mean about it. And I get to try it first.”

 

“Go ahead, then,” Jordan says skeptically.

 

Milly slices up the pizza with a knife—Jordan isn’t the type of lad to have a pizza cutter, most of his pizza comes pre-sliced after all—and lifts up a piece to have a bite.

 

He smiles and chews it slowly, savoring the taste.

 

Jordan mentally thanks everyone he called for help—his mum, his sister, his half-Italian childhood classmate Tony, Fabio Borini…

 

“I take it back,” Milly says, “I’m eating it all. Sorry, mate. You’ll just have to make yourself another one.”

 

“Oh ha ha, Mills. Not even you could get Kloppo to forgive you for eating a whole pizza.”

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll let you have a slice or two, I guess.”

 

“You’re too generous, James, no wonder all the boys’re mad over you,” Jordan teases.

 

They don’t do the whole candlelit dinner thing—not that Jordan hadn’t considered it, but it was another thing he thought Milly would find more amusing than romantic.

 

Instead, they sit in the two barstools and eat at the kitchen counter.

 

 _Casual_ , Jordan thinks to himself, _I’m really pulling it off. What a pro._

 

Milly tells him stories about growing up in Leeds and what it was like, playing for the club at such a young age and how hard it had been to leave.

 

Jordan shares by telling what it was like to play alongside Stevie—Milly’d played with him for the national team, but Stevie and Carra at Liverpool was way different than Stevie and Carra for England, what Luis was really like—

 

“Good guy, Mills, really, kinda intense, kinda mental, but he is a good guy, deep down, I really believe that. Kinda like Maradona, you know? Love him or hate him, no middle ground.”

 

Milly nodded. “Kun had a kid with Maradona’s daughter, can you imagine? Your kid’s granddad being Diego Maradona? Jesus, I can’t even picture it. What would that even be like?”

 

“Well, Stevie’s gonna be a granddad some day, probably…”

 

“Yeah, but Stevie’s _Stevie_. He’d be a brilliant granddad. Maradona, though… Kinda wild for a granddad. The sort who’d take your ten year old to go watch R rated films.”

 

Jordan laughs.

 

The conversation drifts, flows naturally from Maradona to Pele to FIFA. It’s all good.

 

They’re just starting to talk about their chances of silverware this season when Jordan cuts in.

 

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? Not right now. Let’s leave work at work, yeah? Tell me something else.”

 

Milly looks at him a little, sees the faint strain in his face, and remembers how heavy the armband can be sometimes. He shifts, tells a story about his niece and how her first word was—

 

“’Fuck?’ Seriously? Your niece’s first word was ‘fuck?’”

 

“There’s a reason you’re not meant to swear around kids, you know. I was off babysitting duty for a solid month after that, until she said Mama and Dada and yes and no and then they let me back in. She pointed at my face and screamed ‘bad Unca Jim!’ My sister can really hold her own, I guess. Still worth it, though. Just the story, like, it was my all-time best prank—she’ll never get back at me, it’s brilliant.”

 

“I didn’t know you were a prankster,” Jordan says with a little smile.

 

“Mark of a truly good one, innit? Not getting caught,” Milly grins, and Jordan’s glad they’re on the same side. Well, he hopes they are, at any rate.

 

They finish as much as they can, or as much as they can allow themselves, and they go back to the car. They’re just pulling on their coats. Jordan zips his up and watches Milly shrug his on, not bothering with the buttons and reaching for the doorknob.

 

“Oi, it’s freezing, lad, you’ll get sick,” Jamie reprimands, taking a step closer and doing up the buttons of Milly’s coat.

 

Milly looks up at him, eyes all soft and fond.

 

“Don’t you dare, James Milner, we’ve got a film to go watch, I already bought the tickets, you can’t look at me that way or we won’t even make it through the door.”

 

“Look at you how?” Milly asks, eyes twinkling.

 

Let the record show that James Philip Milner is a sassy little piece of shit and Jordan definitely shouldn’t be head over heels for him.

 

“See if I take you out again,” Jordan retorts, “you know what you’re doing.”

 

“I don’t think it’s going to work out if I’m not allowed to even look at you, mate.”

 

Jordan laughs a little and puts his hands on Milly’s sides, pulling him in for a quick little kiss. Milly’s caught off-guard

 

“Get in the car, you,” Jordan agrees.

 

Milly just smiles up at him, a little dazed, and goes.

 

It’s… good to know it’s not just one sided, then.

 

They walk into the cinema like any two friends would. But when they sit down, Milly takes Jordan’s hand in his and just holds it.

 

The film is beautiful—the colors are wondrous and the characters are soft. Newt is kind and Jacob Kowalski is exactly the way one would hope to be when drafted into the story he’d been given. Tina is tough and vulnerable all at the same time, and Queenie is gentle, the least threatening a person could be who could read your mind.

 

But Credence Barebone’s story—it’s hard to watch, sometimes. Milly shrinks a little, when they watch the way his mother treats him, when they see how Percival Graves treats him. Jordan pulls his hand out of Milly’s and wraps an arm round his shoulders casually, pulling him in a little closer. Milly lets him, leaning against his shoulder.

 

When Newt and Tina and saying goodbye at the docks, Milly smiles really big. Jordan eases his arm out from around Milly’s shoulders and Milly takes his hand again, squeezing a little bit.

 

They talk about the film as Jordan drives them back.

 

“D’you wanna come in for a cuppa tea?” Milly asks when they’re sat in his driveway.

 

Jordan raises his eyebrows and Milly goes all red.

 

“Just a cup of tea,” he mumbles, looking at his feet.

 

“I’d love one.”

 

Jordan sits at the table and watches Milly make their tea.

 

“So when are you taking me out to the studio tour?” he asks, not caring that it comes off as eager.

 

“Someone’s confident. What makes you think you earned a second date?”

 

“The look on your face after I kissed you, for one thing. The fact that you invited me in for a cuppa tea, for another. It’s the oldest excuse in the book for when you don’t want to say goodbye.”

 

“Kinda want to say goodbye now, though,” Milly teases.

 

“Oh, should I go?” Jordan asks, standing up abruptly.

 

“No!” Milly says instantly, hand reaching for Jordan’s forearm.

 

Jordan sits down again, with a long, slow smirk.

 

“You,” Milly informs him, “are a bad man. Teasing me like that. It’s just rude.”

 

“Would you have preferred I not teased and actually left?” Jordan asks, already knowing the answer.

 

“Shut up, Jordan, or I’ll leave you here and go on the tour myself.”

 

It’s new, this, this silly flirting banter. Jordan feels his heart beat a little faster every time he teases, half-afraid that he could pretend to walk away and Milly wouldn’t call him on it, would just let him go.

 

But he calls him back, every time, meets every tease about leaving or finding someone nicer with a good-natured grin that shows he doesn’t even _think_ Jordan’s going to leave.

 

Maybe that’s because he isn’t.

 

The cups of tea are long since empty when Milly catches sight of the clock.

 

“Is it that late already?”

 

“Time flies when I’m around,” Jordan says airily, “I hear that a lot.”

 

“Why, you charm all the boys, do you?”

 

Jordan grins. “Nah. Just the pretty ones.”

 

“You’re in the wrong house then, mate.”

 

“Actually, this is the rightest house of all,” Jordan says, leaning in a little.

 

Milly leans in too, slowly, looking Hendo in the eyes, trying to make sure he’s not misreading anything, but how could he be, how could he not _see_ that Jordan was mad about him—

 

The date is perfect, and it ends with a perfect goodnight kiss.

 

And then another.

 

And another.

 

Until Jordan pulls away. “I’ll never leave if you keep doing that,” he says breathlessly.

 

“Good,” Milly says, pulling him back in, “don’t, then.”

 

“Bad,” Jordan corrects ruefully, pulling back again. “We’ve got training tomorrow, remember? And my responsible little Milly ought to go to bed on time. Captain’s orders.”

 

“Where else does my captain give orders, then?” Milly asks, eyes sparkling a little.

 

“Don’t you tempt me, James Milner. I’m trying to do the right thing, and you’re really not being boring enough to make it easy.”

 

Milly pouts—and why must he _pout_?—Jordan can’t even look at his mouth anymore.

 

Jordan leans in again, kisses him again, one last proper one for the night. “Goodnight, Mills. Walk me out?”

 

James nods reluctantly. Jordan’s pulling his coat on when Milly pulls him in by the lapels and presses one last kiss to his mouth.

 

“Good night, Jordan,” he says, sounding quite satisfied with himself.

 

Jordan mumbles a response and resists the urge to kiss him again. It was quite like the desire to get the last word in, but— _captains have to rise above, sometimes, Jordan,_ he reminds himself, and walks back to his car.

 

Milly watches him from the doorway—letting all the heat out, the idiot, Jordan thinks fondly—and doesn’t close the door until Jordan’s out of the drive and onto the road. He waves one last time before he closes the door and Jordan drives home. He giggles out loud when he opens the fridge and sees the leftover pizza, and sleeps, for the first time in years, like a man who has no worries at all.

 

_“You need a giver,” Queenie Goldstein tells him in his dreams._

_“I have one,” Jordan replies with a soft smile._


	11. The Studio Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milly takes Jordan on the studio tour.

There’s a two week break coming up between matches, and while that time will undoubtedly be full of training sessions that are somehow nearly as exhausting as matches, despite the lower stakes, Jordan knows Kloppo’s giving them a day off on Sunday. He goes to bed Saturday night, drop-dead exhausted and dreams of spiky hair and dimples and City-colored pajamas that turn red as he looks at them.

 

He wakes thinking about what Milly would be like to wake up to. He’s short, but strong, broad shoulders and chest. _He’s probably really comfy_ , Jordan thinks with a sigh. He’s still thinking about him, actually, in that sleepy Sunday-morning lying in bed daydreaming sort of way, when the doorbell rings.

 

He sighs and drags himself out of bed, down the stairs to see whoever it is that’s come to visit.

 

It’s Milly, all perfect white teeth and dimples and dressed (unfortunately) and showered and looking at him expectantly.

 

“Hullo, Mills,” Jordan says, leaning back against the doorway and giving him a long look up and down, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

 

“Wish I could say the same,” Milly says, taking in his pajamas with a furrowed brow, “you’ve got half an hour to get ready, don’t fuss about breakfast, we’ll buy something on our way.”

 

“On our way to where, love?” Jordan asks, using the endearment on purpose just to watch Milly blush.

 

“The Harry Potter Studio Tour! I’m driving, so you can be lazy and sleep in the car if you like, but we’ve got to go. We’ll get there around lunchtime, buy something to eat, and then we’ll spend a good few hours there, make sure we’ve seen everything properly, and then we’ll drive back home.”

 

“And then you’ll stay the night at mine?” Jordan teases, stepping back and letting Milly enter the house.

 

“Might be too tired after that to drive home. Might have to stay here,” Milly agrees gravely, “for safety reasons.”

 

“For safety reasons,” Jordan agrees, pulling him in for a good morning kiss.

 

“Your safety is very important to me. Might just be safer to nix the whole thing, stay in bed today,” he whispers as they pull apart.

 

“You have morning breath,” Milly informs him smartly, though he’s smiling a little.

 

“Right, I’ll go get ready then?”

 

“And I’ll make the… what’ll you have, love? Coffee? Tea?” Milly doesn’t use the pet name as a secret weapon like Jordan does—that’s one thing they’ve both learned over the course of their relationship.

 

Jordan does it to tease, Milly just does it as a matter of course, just to ask if he’d like some dessert, or if he’ll come in for a cuppa tea after a date.

 

Jordan doesn’t blush at it anymore, though it still warms him up from the inside, hearing it.

 

“Tea, please. Make yourself a coffee if you want, though. You’ve got a long drive ahead. We can take turns, if you’d like.”

 

“I’ll let you know, Jordan, thank you. Now go get ready!” Milly says, shooing him away playfully.

 

“I thought you loved me, Milly! You’re so cruel to me!” Jordan calls out, jogging up the stairs.

 

By the time Jordan gets down, hair damp but gelled back anyway, Milly has two travel mugs ready to go. The one he hands Jordan is tea, but the scent of fresh brewed coffee—the dark Arabica beans Milly likes—is heavy in the air.

 

“Gimme some of yours,” Jordan demands, smiling as Milly hands it over. It’s hot, and Jordan just barely avoids burning his tongue. Milly doesn’t take much sugar, so the bitterness comes out a bit more strongly, just barely tempered by the cream.

 

(Jordan hadn’t liked it much at first, preferring his own much sweeter, but he found it had rather grown on him, until now he liked having a few sips most days—Milly always let him steal a bit.)

 

He takes another sip, grimacing at how it tastes in his minty-fresh mouth, handing it back and taking his own tea in exchange.

 

“Come on then, Milly,” he says, yawning, “if you’re waking me up this early on our only day off, you’d better make it worth it.”

 

They grab their coats and head out to the car.

 

Jordan just blasts the heat on his side and lies back, falling asleep with his head against the window.

 

Milly puts on the Harry Potter soundtrack and drives the rest of the way, humming under his breath.

 

He pulls over at a coffeeshop and buys their breakfast, and a hot chocolate just in case they feel like it.

 

Jordan sleeps through all of it, and Milly lets him, putting the food just in front of the vents so it doesn’t get cold quite as quickly.

 

Jordan stirs when they’re about halfway there, a couple of hours later, two little red marks on his nose from where his sunglasses dug in when he leaned against the window.

 

“Bought you breakfast, love,” Milly says, when it becomes clear that Jordan is actually waking up this time, and not just stirring slightly.

 

“You’re an actual angel, Mills, sent straight from Leeds via Manchester,” Jordan mutters, pulling out the Danish and stuffing it straight into his mouth. He tastes the glazed sugar and the warm, flakey pastry, and Milly watches, amused, as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head at the taste of it.

 

“I can die now,” Jordan moans, “I can die a happy man, having had this Danish, thanks to you, Milly.”

 

“I hesitate to mention it, but there is some hot chocolate, too, if you want it.”

 

“Marry me, Mills,” Jordan says fervently.

 

If they were still just friends, it’s the sort of joke they could just laugh at and move past, and even if they were just dating sort of casually, they could probably get over it. But… Milly blushes a little, and Jordan mumbles an apology, and occupies himself with his breakfast, and Milly turns up the music a little.

 

It fades, eventually. Awkwardness between them always does.

 

And then soon enough they’re laughing and joking and flirting a little as Milly drives, and then they’re there.

 

“Come on, love, we’ve got our tickets, we’ll have a bit of lunch and then be on our way, okay?”

 

Jordan nods, even though he can still feel breakfast in his stomach, after eating it late and not having done anything to burn it off.

 

He buys a sandwich anyway, and so does Milly, and they huddle in a corner. Normally, they might attract attention, but here, they’re far from impressive, because the fucking _cupboard under the stairs_ is _right there_.

 

It’s more pilgrimage than anything else. Jordan wonders if this is what it’s like, when people come from all over the world to Anfield for the first time. It’s loud and boisterous and cheery, and people are taking pictures and squeezing their friends’ arms in excitement, and couples are kissing happily.

 

They won’t go that far, Jordan and Milly. Not outside with cameras literally everywhere. But Jordan does squeeze Milly’s hand when they get into the queue and enter the Great Hall, when they see the staff table and the Gryffindor flags hanging from the ceiling.

 

He puts a discreet hand round Milly’s arm, just to keep from losing him in the crowd.

 

They get little passports by lying and saying they’re for their kids, and they go round stamping them at all the different stations, glancing perfunctorily at Hermione’s Yule Ball dress and spending nearly ten minutes in front of the display of every main character’s wands.

 

The Weasleys’ kitchen is there, complete with animatronic washing up. The Gryffindor common room is there, with details of how the set designers sought to make it as warm and welcoming and comfortable as possible, with large soft sofas you could just sink into, and warm, dim lighting, with the fireplace adding to the atmosphere of it.

 

They go outside and see the Ford Anglia and Number Four Privet Drive, and go into the next building and see Dobby. It’s just… _Dobby_ , in a glass case to keep him safe. There are socks, too. Single socks draped over the glass to honor him. It makes Jordan emotional, all of a sudden. He swallows hard and takes off his shoe, pulling off the plain black sock and adding it to the others.

 

Milly does the same next to him, putting an absent hand on Jordan’s shoulder to keep his balance as he does it.

 

A lad recognizes them then, Milly first, and then Jordan. He’s wearing a powder-blue City kit, and pulls away from his father to talk to them.

 

“You’re James Milner!” He announces loudly.

 

“I am, yeah. How are you doing today, mate?” Milly asks, kneeling to talk to him at eye level.

 

They get lucky. The kid has the sense to stay quiet, and out of all the people milling about, only a tiny fraction of them give a flying fuck about football. He’s not Steven Gerrard, Milly isn’t Agüero—people can’t really be bothered when _Dobby is right there_.

 

James signs his shirt for him, shakes his dad’s hand. The lad comes back a little bit later.

 

“I really like Liverpool too, you know,” he says quietly, offering Jordan his hand.

 

“Thank you, lad,” Jordan says seriously.

 

“Good luck for the rest of the season,” the boy says politely, “except when we play you, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Jordan says, smiling widely at him.

 

The boy smiles at him and takes off, dashing back towards his father.

 

They go to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, which is brilliant, explore the Hogwarts Express, and sigh longingly at the gift shop.

 

“We each get to shop for each other for twenty minutes, okay? Hundred pound limit. Anything you’re dying to have, Hendo?” Milly asks, grinning.

 

“Anything you get me, Mills, it’s fine,” Jordan says, smiling sweetly back at him.

 

“Set a timer on your phone. If either of us misses the deadline, they’ve got to drive us home.”

 

“And buy dinner?”

 

“Yeah, sure, we’ll do takeaway or dinner at a proper restaurant today. Special occasion, after all.”

 

They split up, each grabbing a basket, which certainly doesn’t bode well for the hundred pound limit.

 

Milly goes straight for the back, picks up a _Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain_ t-shirt in Jordan’s size and tucks it away. He’d look good in Gryffindor colors of course—it’s not quite the same shade as Liverpool red but it’s near. But you can’t change your house for something as pedantic as fashion. Besides, Jordan’s a Hufflepuff through and through. He can tell.

 

He goes round the rest of the store, too, carefully picking up and putting down mugs, and scarves and hats. He meanders into the sweets section and smiles at the chocolate frogs, carefully placing one on top of the t-shirt, in it’s box—it’ll be fun to see the card inside, to see who he gets.

 

He takes another round, and sighs, looking at the replica wands.

 

“They’re too expensive, you know,” a voice breathes behind him, a chin coming down to rest on his shoulder.

 

“I know,” Milly responds fondly, “don’t try to sneak a peak into my basket, though, or you forfeit. Driving and dinner. Don’t ruin the surprise, Joradn.”

 

There’s a noisy huff of air blowing past his ear as Jordan sighs.

 

“Fine. Then you don’t get to look at mine either.” And then there’s movement, and Jordan’s gone.

 

He manages to tear his eyes away from the wands and buys a little Snitch instead, a little Golden Snitch with velvety wings and golden iridescent paint over the ball and the base of the wings, which are held rigid by a wire. There’s a weight inside it, so the wing-side of the Snitch stays up.

 

It puts him slightly over the limit, but Milly doesn’t care. He puts it in his basket anyway, heading to the checkout counter to wait in line.

 

He’s holding his bag and leaves the shop to wait outside, just to avoid the temptation to look for Jordan and sneak a peek into his basket.

 

Jordan shows up a few minutes later. “Ridiculous prices,” he mutters, “how’m I supposed to treat you on only a hundred pounds? That’s like one t-shirt in there, I swear.”

 

“Come on, let’s show them to each other at home. Maybe that way you can reward me for how brilliant I am.”

 

“But nobody lost! Who’s going to buy dinner and drive?”

 

“I will, of course, today’s my day, everything’s my treat.”

 

Jordan smiles at him, and there’s a look in his eyes, as if he wants to take Milly’s hand, but can’t.

 

“You’re not tired, Mills?”

 

“I’ll start driving, at least. And then we can trade off.”

 

Jordan likes that plan better, and not just because Milly is cute when he sleeps.

 

Milly starts the drive and they switch off when they stop for petrol, and Jordan pushes the seat back and adjusts the mirrors and Milly pretends it isn’t at all irksome that he’s going to have to change everything back before he goes home. He forgets his irritation, though, falling asleep on their way home and missing Jordan pulling up to a restaurant.

 

“Wake up, love.”

 

Milly stirs slowly, careful as he rolls his shoulders and neck to ease the stiffness. They get out of the car and see a pretty little Italian restaurant, not so fancy that they can’t get in wearing jeans and t-shirts, but not Nando’s, either.

 

They get a booth near the back of the restaurant, enjoying the dim light that makes it at least slightly less likely that they’ll be recognized.

 

Dinner is fun. They drop hints about what they’d bought each other and they play footsie under the table. They pretend they’re just friends when the waitress comes by to take their orders or check on them, but the rest of the time, it’s all flirting and banter and Jordan feels like his heart might explode. Milly agrees that they can get a dessert as long as it’s one to share between the two of them, and so they get the healthiest one on the menu—vanilla ice cream with fresh berries and lovely sweet strawberry sauce. Jordan makes a bit of a show of insisting he’ll pay when the bill comes out, but Milly just rolls his eyes and flat-out ignores him as he takes out his wallet, which is more effective than any verbal response.

 

They get back to the car and Milly gets into the driver’s seat, taking them back to Jordan’s, and thrillingly, Jordan doesn’t even have to invite him in—he just follows along behind Jordan, assuming they’re going to spend more time together.

 

They each get a t-shirt, of course. Jordan gets the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain one, and Milly gets one in black with the Hogwarts crest on it. Jordan’s Snitch rounds out his haul, while Milly gets a few chocolate frogs and a couple of beautiful coffee mugs, and promptly insists on having a chocolate frog with Jordan to celebrate. They just open the one, grinning at the picture of Dumbledore on the accompanying card, and Milly still tastes sweet when Jordan leans in for the kiss he’d been waiting for all day long.

 

“Stay the night,” he murmurs, inching a little closer to Milly and kissing him again. “Please. Wanna sleep next to you, James.”

 

It’s his first name that does it. That’s the thing that makes Milly agree, the way he shivers a little when Jordan calls him James. He doesn’t mind when Jordan takes his hand and leads him upstairs. They both strips off their jeans and Milly opts to sleep in just his boxers, enjoying the way Jordan’s gaze lingers on his legs, in a way that it’s not allowed to when they’re at Melwood or Anfield. They lay in bed together, not for the first time, but it’s still new enough that Jordan doesn’t automatically know the right way to hold his boyfriend and has to work his way into finding it.

 

He kisses Milly again, and it’s still exciting, kissing him in bed like this, even though they’ve done it before and gone even further.

 

“I’m tired, love,” James says softly, “I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day. Brilliant, but the driving and all—took a bit more out of me than I thought. Maybe tomorrow morning? Before training?”

 

Jordan agrees easily—he wouldn’t have minded properly thanking his boyfriend for his gifts, but he can wait until morning, too.

 

Milly falls asleep shortly after, and Jordan wonders how soon is too soon to move in together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... am really not enthusiastic about this story anymore, so if this chapter came across a little uninspired and unenthused, that would be why. I just wanted to get this finished so I could stop feeling guilty about it, if I'm honest, and I'm probably not going to write anything else for this 'verse, since I've pretty much gone through all the possible aspects of Harry Potter that I could think of. 
> 
> Maybe they go to Universal Studios in the summer and go run around the Harry Potter park down there in the summer, but that's not something I can write as I've never been there myself and experienced it, and the rest of this story was all heavily based on my own experiences with and feelings about Harry Potter. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for sticking with this story so long- I know you've probably forgotten it existed because I haven't updated it in months, but I appreciate it nonetheless.


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